I Will Always Return
by pastaaddict
Summary: What happens when a empire dies? The chance to keep a promise. One shot! Ending has been rewritten.


**I saw a AMV by XaloneXinXdarknez about Holy Rome and Chibitalia on Youtube to a song called _I Will Always Return_ with two clips of Hungary telling Italy about Holy Rome's death and then Italy and Germany meeting in World War I. I thought it was a good title for a story and I wanted to do a Holy Rome x Chibitalia story. I hope I did it justice.**

**_I Will Always Return _belongs to Bryan Adams**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya**

_**I Will Always Return**_

_1805. Battle of Austerlitz._

"Come, Holy Roman Empire," the angel said, holding out her hand. "It's time to go."

Holy Roman Empire looked down at his body, lying in the mud with a sword wound in its heart. France knelt beside it with the bloody sword in his hand, weeping. He had not wanted to do this! To be the death of a fellow nation. But his boss had ordered it and he could not disobey.

Italia! What would this do to Italia?

"Come, Holy Rome," the angel said again. Holy Rome was not afraid to die but he had made a promise.

"I can't go," he replied, desperately "I promised Italia I would return. I have to see Italia again!"

"I'm sorry, Holy Rome," the angel said sadly. "It's your time. The laws of the universe can't be changed, just for you."

"Please!" he plead. "I must see her, one more time." The angel sighed.

"Very well," she relented. "One last time, but Italia will not be able to see you." She held her out her hand again and Holy Rome took it.

Unseen by the living, the angel and Holy Rome disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

><p>Italia hummed happily as he drew his paint brush across the canvas, creating a new masterpiece, his apron protecting the green dress that Miss Hungary had put him in. It had felt strange at first, wearing Miss Hungary's old clothes but he had gotten use to it. The white headscarf held back his hair from his face, except for his curl which stuck out to the left, no matter what.<p>

The painting would be one of the gifts Italia would have waiting for Holy Rome's return. He watched out daily for the return of his sweetheart but there was no sign. News of the wars did not seem to reach Italia. He did not know that Miss Hungary and Mr Austria were keeping the news from him because the war was not going well and Italia was an emotional little nation. He would fret and worry.

The angel and Holy Rome watched Italia as she began to sing,"_Draw a circle, that's the Earth, draw a circle, that's the Earth..._" Holy Rome loved to hear Italia sing and paint. Her voice was always so happy and she was such an artist. She had grown a little since he had left for war but she was still a pretty little thing. How could he leave her behind?

There was a commotion outside the door and Italia turned toward it as it opened and Miss Hungary came in. A beautiful girl with long brown hair, Miss Hungary was normally a very cheerful young lady but today something was wrong. Miss Hungary looked sad and Italia knew there had been bad news.

"Ve~ what's wrong, Miss Hungary?" Holy Rome watched Hungary gently put her hands on Italia's shoulders and brought her in for a comforting hug. He turned to the angel.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"A messenger has brought news of your death," she replied, softly.

"But we just left the battlefield," he said, surprised. "There's no way a messenger could get here so fast."

"Time works differently in the afterlife, Holy Rome," she explained. "In the time we travelled to here, several days have past. You died five days ago." Holy Rome realised he was about to witness Italia hearing about his death.

Hungary pulled back and took Italia's face in her hands.

"Italia," she said, gently. "There's been news. The war has been lost." Italia was bemused but hopeful.

"But that means Holy Rome will be home soon, si?" she asked, hopefully. Hungary shook her head.

"Italia, Holy Rome is..." Hungary hunted for a soft way to break the news. "Not here any more."

Italia was confused. Holy Rome was not here? But of course he was not here, they were waiting for him to …..

Holy Rome watched Italia shake her head in denial as she realised what Miss Hungary was trying to say.

"No," she gasped. "He promised! He promised he would come back! He promised he wouldn't die violently! He promised …..." Italia sank to her knees as tears began crawling down her face. Holy Rome knelt beside her.

"I did come back, Italia," he said and tried to grasp her hand but his hand past straight through hers. He tried again but their hands slipped through each other like shadows.

Hungary knelt beside Italia and swept the distraught nation into a comforting hug, rocking back and forth as Italia grieved. Austria came quietly through the door.

"I see you told Italia," he said, softly. He was not a man given to showing empathy for the feelings of others but he was not heartless and right now his heart was going out to Italia. Hungary nodded as Italia wept.

"I'll take Italia to bed," she replied. "It's been a shock." She pulled Italia to his feet and helped the weeping nation to his room. Holy Rome and the angel followed them.

Hungary removed Italia's apron, headscarf and boots, laid him down on the bed and pulled the blanket over him. Italia continued to weep and Hungary stayed with him until he finally cried himself to sleep.

After Hungary left, Holy Rome took her place beside Italia's sleeping form. The tears were drying on her face and a sob still escaped her. Holy Rome tried to cup her cheek but his hand just sank into her face.

"Holy Rome," the angel said, gently. "We must go now." Holy Rome looked up and knew not to argue. He leant down and brushed his lips where the skin of Italia's cheek would be if he could touch it. Then he stood up and went to the angel. With a flash of light the angel took Holy Rome to heaven.

In his sleep, Italia's hand reached up and stroked his cheek.

* * *

><p><em>1814<em>

Holy Rome drifted through heaven with the other souls awaiting rebirth. He was not expecting that to happen to him soon. He had been a personification and would be reborn as a personification and countries did not come into existence every day. Which is why he was surprised when the angel came for him.

"Come, Holy Rome," she told him. "It's time to go."

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"You are to be reborn," she replied with a smile.

"So soon?"

"When the empire you personified fell, things were chaotic," she explained. "Land was reorganised and a league of sovereign states has been created. You will be its personification."

"Will I see Italia again?" he asked. "I promised I'd return." The angel smiled. Holy Rome never lost his love for his living sweetheart.

"You might," she replied. "But you won't remember." Holy Rome smiled confidently.

"I'll always remember Italia."

* * *

><p>It had been nine years since the loss of the Holy Roman Empire and Prussia missed his little brother every day of it. Prussia walked through the forest, thinking of Holy Rome and Italia. Italia had taken Holy Rome's death hard. Even now, the young nation had moments of melancholy and could still be reduced to tears by a mention of the deceased empire.<p>

A new group of countries had been created from the ruins of the old empire called the German Confederation. Prussia wondered if it would do better than the Holy Roman Empire.

Suddenly, Prussia heard the sound of a twig snapping and drew his sword, standing ready to fight.

"Come out and face my awesomeness," he called out. A small hand appeared around a tree and a child's face appeared from behind the trunk. Prussia's sword lowered in shock.

_Holy Rome!_

It could not be. Holy Rome was dead, Prussia had seen the body himself. Who was this boy?

"What are you doing out here alone?" he asked. "Who are you?" The boy trembled slightly.

"I'm the German Confederation."

A personification! Prussia was stunned. He looked like Holy Rome but if he was the German Confederation then he had not long since been born. Prussia put his sword away.

"You're a nation, like me!" It was a statement, not a question. The boy nodded.

"You'll need help," Prussia said. "You need a big bruder. If you like, you can be the little bruder of the awesome me. Would you like that?" The boy thought about it for a second and then nodded.

"Awesome!" Prussia replied and picked the boy up. "I'll teach you to be awesome although you'll never be as awesome as me. No one could be."

As he carried the boy back to his house, he gave some thought to exactly what to do with the kid. If others found out about him before he was strong enough to look out for himself, he could have a fight on his hands to hang on to the boy. And then there was Italia. Italia was only just getting over Holy Roman Empire. Seeing this boy could cause a setback and Prussia did not want to do anything to hurt the italian nation.

So to protect the boy from other nations who might want to exploit him and Italia from painful memories, he kept the German Confederation a secret until he could protect himself.

So, consequently, the German Confederation and Italia did not meet each other for a long time.

* * *

><p><em>World War I, 1915<em>

Germany made his way through the forest cautiously, expecting his enemy to attack at any moment. He knew his opponent was a descendant of the Roman Empire so he was expecting a fierce fight. He gripped Herr Schtick determinedly, his companion for many miles now. He had always had something for sticks, usually broom handles. It was something he just could not explain.

"I'm supposed to be fighting a descendant of Rome right now," he mused. "So far, no such luck." He looked around him again.

"How weird!" he muttered. "We crossed that border with no problems, didn't we, Herr Schtick?" He had a habit of talking to broom handles and sticks too.

"I'm so sorry I didn't share any of my liverwurst with you," he apologised to the stick. "The invasion was going so well, I forgot about feeding mein schticky friend." He was talking to a stick! Mein Gott! He needed a real friend.

"Still, I shouldn't let my guard down," he scolded himself. "This is him we're talking about, he must have some sort of plan." And he continued through the forest.

* * *

><p>Italy cowered in the box, hearing someone moving toward him outside. What was he thinking? He was not strong or brave. He had spend most of his life being subjugated and pushed around. He was not good in a fight. Why did his boss involve his country in his war?<p>

The steps got louder and he trembled. When a loud tap echoed around the inside of the box, he yelped.

* * *

><p>The last thing Germany was expecting to find was a large crate marked 'TOMATOES' standing in the middle of a forest.<p>

"Weird!" he commented, looking at the crate. "Why vould someone leave a box of tomatoes here?" He tapped the crate with Herr Schtick and jumped in shock when the crate jumped in fright.

"Hello to you," a muffled voice said in panic. "I'm the box of tomatoes fairy. I come in peace. Let's us be friends and play with each other."

Inside the crate, Italy lost it and began babbling nonsense about tomato fairies but he could not stop. He was done for, totally done for.

Germany got over his shock and grabbed the lid of the crate.

"I think there is someone inside," he pulled at the lid that was resisting removal.

"You're wrong," the box insisted. "There's no one inside. Don't open the box!" Germany pulled harder on the lid. The box protested more but Germany ignored it and eventually the lid gave way and Germany felled back with it.

A young man stood up in the box, eyes clenched closed with fear. He had auburn-brown hair with a wayward strand that curled out to the left. He looked barely out of adolescence.

"I'm sorry," he screamed, tears of fear streaming down his face. "I'm not a box of tomatoes fairy at all. It was all lies, Lies, LIES!" Germany moved the lid which had landed on his head and looked at the crying man still stood in the box. He had a odd feeling of de ja vu about the curl at bounced at the side of the man's head.

"Please don't shoot me," Italy's mouth was running away with him now. "I'm too young to die. Please, I'll do anything, well, within reason. I don't want to DIEEEEE!" DIEEEEE echoed around the forest.

"Seriously, I'm a virgin," too much information right there. "You don't want to shoot the virgin. Please I have relatives in Bayern ….."

Germany could not believe that this was who he was supposed to be fighting. He seemed so weak, so pathetic, such a crybaby. There was no way this whiny little brat could be descended from the Roman Empire.

"You wouldn't be related to the great Rome, would you," he asked.

"You know Grandpa Rome!" Italy stopped crying and looked at his enemy. And froze.

_Holy Rome!_

It could not be. Holy Rome was dead. Prussia had found him on the battlefield and buried him. There was no way this man could be him. After all, Holy Rome never became an adult.

But the blue eyes and blonde hair! The hair was slicked back but Italy would bet if the hair was over his forehead he would look just like Holy Rome. If he had had the chance to grow up.

But he had been dead for over a century. It still hurt Italy to think of his childhood sweetheart gone for good. This man was just a lookalike, that is all he could be.

But there was something about him that drew Italy to him and if he knew Grandpa Rome, he could not be a bad person. So he babbled about how he thought Germany had looked mean and scary at first and how they could be friends.

Germany was as just as stunned by his opponent. There was something about him that tugged at Germany's memory but, to his knowledge, he had never met Italy before. Did he remind him of someone? Germany could not remember as he listened to Italy rattle off. He could not believe the Roman Empire's heir was so pathetic and then paranoia hit him.

He could be trying fool him into lowering his guard and waiting to strike when his back was turned. Sneaky bastard!

Italy's ramble was cut short when Germany hit him with his rifle. He fell to the ground and began crying.

And Germany felt like he had just hit a puppy!

* * *

><p><em>Present day<em>

Despite their rocky first meeting, Germany and Italy had seemed to orbit each other through war, defeat and economic ups and downs. Finally romance between them blossomed and now they were together.

"Germany," Italy called. "Can you get that box for me please?"

Germany was helping Italy clear out the storage room at Italy's house. There were many things from way back and Italy kept getting caught up in his memories so Germany was trying to keep him on task.

He carried an empty box into the room as Italy was sorting a few things to go in it. As he put it down, he knocked against something and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Germany bent to pick it up and saw it was a push broom. It was old but it looked well cared for and as he picked it up, he felt as if he had held this broom before. As he examined the broom, Italy came to see what he was looking at.

"Ve~" he said, sadly. "I gave that to someone special. Prussia brought it back to me after he died."

"Mein bruder did?"

"Si," Italy replied. "He was Prussia's little fratello." Germany knew Prussia had had a brother before him but knew little about him. Prussia did not like to talk about him.

"He also brought this back," Italy knelt down and picked up a painting, giving it to Germany to look at. It was picture of Italy as a child, asleep on a chair. He looked like a little girl, helped by the fact he was wearing a green dress with a white apron and a white headscarf holding back his hair.

Germany felt dizzy. The world faded away and he began to see a whole different life. The life of an empire which included many nations. And of a young Italy who served in Austria's house who was scared of him to begin with. Who taught him to paint, or tried to, he was not very good at it. Of her refusal to join him to become the most powerful nation in the world. Leaving for war. His death.

"Italia," Germany said, trance-like. "You were called Italia."

"Ve~?" Italy looked up at Germany, confused.

"I thought you were a girl," he continued, still gazing into the past. "I wanted you to join the Holy Roman Empire but you always ran away from me." Italy stared at Germany in shock.

"I came home one day and found you in Austria's house. I was so happy you were finally part of me. You taught me to paint, I wasn't very good. When I was leaving for war, I asked you to join me in becoming the most powerful country in the world but you refused. You were afraid I would suffer the same fate as your grandfather."

Unbelievable ideas ran through Italy's mind. How could Germany know about his life in Austria's house and what he had said to Holy Rome that last day before he left for war. And then he left and never returned. Germany looked so much like Holy Rome that when Germany went into battle, Italy went with him despite his fear. He was afraid if Germany went without him, Italy would never see him again.

But Germany was talking about things only Holy Rome would know. It could not be.

Could it!

Italy's eyes began to fill with tears.

As the memories of his past life surfaced, Germany remembered the times he had spent with Italia. No. _Italy! _How he fell in love with her, _his,_ sweet nature and cute face. She, _he,_ was a helpless little thing and it made him protective of her, _him._ It was why he asked Italy to join him so he could protect and care for her, _him!_

"You wouldn't come with me," Germany was coming out of his trance and looking in Italy's eyes but he still remembered. "I ran from your rejection but the next day, before I left, we met. You gave me your push broom and I gave you a kiss." Germany looked down at Italy and Italy saw his sweetheart of a lifetime ago looking out through his eyes.

"Holy Rome!" Italy finally gasped.

"I promised I would come back. I promised but I died, I was killed in battle." Italy threw himself into Germany's arms, weeping.

"Holy Rome!" he said again. "Germany!" Germany held Italy tight as he cried. He now had everything he had wanted as Holy Rome and it explained why no matter how much Italy annoyed him, he still stuck by the excessively cheerful italian.

Now, in this life, he finally had his little Italia and then Germany realised he was still holding the broom and chuckled.

"At least this explains my obsession with sticks." Italy gave a little laugh.

"I'm sorry," Germany said, remorsely. "I'm sorry I didn't come back." Suddenly Italy trapped his lips in a kiss.

"Ve~ You did come back," Italy replied when the kiss broke. "Even from death, you returned."

Germany realised Italy was right and smiled.

"Ja," he said. "And I promise. I will always return!"

**I sometimes referred to Italia as both male and female. From Italia's POV, male. From Holy Rome's POV, female. Sorry if I confused anyone.**

**The Battle of Austerlitz took place in December 1805 and the Holy Rome Empire was dissolved August 1806. The German Confederation was formed in 1814. It then became the North German Confederation, then the German Empire and then Germany.**

**I hope you like the idea of Germany being a reincarnation of Holy Roman Empire and I hope you enjoyed this story.**

**Hasta la Pasta!**

**(I've added to the ending because I thought there should be more about what was running through Germany and Italy's head as memories of Germany's past life became clear. I hope I've managed to touch on that!)**


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